


Relativistic Dynamics

by rane_ab



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-30
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-12-25 03:06:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/947885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rane_ab/pseuds/rane_ab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>They’re both alphas, and it shouldn’t be this good.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relativistic Dynamics

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [2013 Summer Pornathon](http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com).

They’re both alphas, and it shouldn’t be this good. In public, Merlin will swallow his pride and bow his head, not just like a serving boy, but as though he recognises Arthur as the better alpha. In private, Arthur will let Merlin fuck him like they’re not breaking every fucking rule, like it makes any kind of sense.

They’re both alphas and none of it matters at all because Merlin’s just a servant. That’s the only way he can explain it.

They always do it in the privacy of Arthur’s bed, with the drapes drawn halfway closed. Sometimes, Arthur will straddle Merlin; will hold the high ground while he sinks down on Merlin’s cock, and Merlin remembers the first time, remembers every time, how beautiful Arthur is and how Merlin just can’t get enough breath watching him like this, ends up panting open-mouthed even as he tries so hard not to touch, not to hold down Arthur’s thighs until he is exactly where Merlin wants him. Arthur never fails to mock him for it as they dress, compares him to a dog on a hot day; looks a little less ashamed of what they do, after.

Other times, they fight. They fight until Arthur has proven himself, has pinned and subjugated Merlin, and Merlin knows he’ll wake up to too many bruises all over his body, but it doesn’t matter because Arthur will then lie back. He’ll let Merlin cover him and rub his hands over the sensitive insides of Arthur’s thighs where they’re spread wide, and the air will grow thin in Merlin’s chest even as he tries to breathe Arthur in. He’ll let Merlin stroke the oil into him; he’ll close his eyes and allow himself the faintest grunt, and then again as Merlin mounts him, and it shouldn’t send such a thrill down Merlin’s spine, but it does.

When they sleep, after, Arthur will let Merlin lie on top of him, Arthur’s throat bared right before him and Merlin _wants_ , so bad. He wants to bite, to mark, but he buries his nose there instead and Arthur’s an alpha; Merlin doesn’t understand how he can smell so good.

In the morning, they make sure to wash up, though they can’t rub each other’s scents from their skin completely. But they are master and servant, and that explains enough. What it doesn’t quite explain is Merlin’s need to keep Arthur safe, to go above and beyond, and the way Arthur’s eyes cut to his before inquiring if Merlin’s little bottom is sore in the middle of a hunt, or the way their words will turn from cutting to understanding and back in the time it takes for Gwaine to finish an apple.

It’s when Merlin’s exhausted and more than half-asleep that he forgets not to want Arthur too much, and his knot sometimes forms. It would be fascinating if it weren’t so worrisome; if it didn’t have him rubbing desperately against the mattress in search of something he can’t have, with Arthur out of reach beside him.

The first time Arthur catches him at it after waking up in the middle of the night, he pulls Merlin on top of himself irritably, as though insulted that Merlin should prefer the mattress. They both freeze moments later. Merlin dresses and leaves, doesn’t look back, feels too hopeless to be embarrassed.

The first time Arthur takes Merlin’s knot, he lets himself sink down onto Merlin’s lap, and Merlin would be wide-eyed with disbelief if he weren’t so busy moaning. His body feels like it might be on fire, and his head tips back when his knot slips inside, and ‘Oh, God, oh, God, oh _God_ ’. He might just be dying. Arthur’s thighs slide stickily over his and then Arthur’s nose brushes his throat, followed by his teeth just before he bites down. It seems to last forever and never long enough, his body wrapped in too much pleasurepainpleasure, and then he’s coming; when he looks up, Arthur’s eyes are slits, lazy and self-satisfied, and there’s too much colour in his cheeks as he slowly strokes himself.

‘Still completely useless, then,’ Arthur says later, sighing in a very put upon way, when it turns out they can’t move much.

‘Sorry,’ says Merlin, unconvincingly. Arthur grumbles and goes to sleep sitting upright, right there in Merlin’s arms.

The next day, Arthur smells too much of Merlin, but no one questions it. Merlin thinks maybe being a servant isn’t too bad after all, especially when Arthur drags him to bed straight after lunch.


End file.
